


Winter Nights

by butterflymind



Series: Five Nights [3]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Edward Keystone/Tjelvar Stornsnasson (mentioned), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 11:37:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21074267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflymind/pseuds/butterflymind
Summary: Home is where the heart is. And if you're lucky, the rest of you makes it back as well.





	1. Prologue: Before Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little behind with canon, and not always possessed of the greatest memory. So I apologise in advance if I have messed up canon anywhere in this (beyond the basic AU-ness of the whole thing, obviously).

The house creaked. Zolf stared at the ceiling and waited for the next round of gentle groans and knocking pipes, the protests and capitulations of wood and metal contracting in the cold night air. He was used to sleeping with noise, creaking ropes and lapping water, footsteps of strangers and the late night slamming of doors. Between ships and inns and the endless press of humanity he had been surrounded by for most of his adult life, he was an accomplished master of only being woken by a direct threat, of unconsciously identifying screams heading in his direction versus those just being carried by the night air. Even in the last year and a half, since they had left Japan and taken to wandering the world like they needed to see it whole again, even when they had slept in seaside cottages and tiny isolated villages he had not lain awake listening.

Oscar did not have this problem. Zolf turned his head to look at him, curled on his side with his head tucked down, face half hidden by the pillow and snoring gently. He would wake with a crick in his neck and a furious denial that he ever snored, as he did every morning. Zolf reached out and tucked an errant lock of his hair back behind his ear, encouraged him with gentle pressure to uncurl and lift his head. Oscar responded by curling his head into Zolf’s arm, then shifting so he could press his face into the side of his neck. He dropped a few blurry kisses onto Zolf’s skin and then his muscles relaxed and he began to snore again, now inches from Zolf’s ear. Zolf sighed and stroked a hand down the long arch of his back, kissed his forehead and closed his own eyes. Sleep drifted in and out of his reach like a tide, for a second he would think he felt the dropping warmth, only for it to recede and the wretched chill of wakefulness return. He kept his eyes closed for as long as he could, until the urge to open them got the better of him. He cursed the night vision that gave him the ability to see every shape in the room clearly, despite the solid blinds and curtains they had invested in before the chill of winter could make itself fully known. He moved, careful not to disturb Oscar, stretched out the hand and fingers of the arm that was not being used as a pillow. His skin tingled in the cold night air beyond the warmth of the blankets, not unpleasant, but only because he knew he could return to the warm the second he chose. He remembered far too clearly what it was like to feel that chill sink into bone deep cold, knowing there was no warmth coming.

He steered deliberately away from that maudlin train of thought, aware it would not help him, but only found himself worrying instead about the drafty windows, the unpacked crates that still littered downstairs. The sound he could hear that he was convinced was mice, or worse rats, scuttling somewhere behind the wainscot. Through it all Oscar snored, blissfully unaware, as his mind travelled the building, hunting for faults, and when that became an unsatisfactory pastime devoted itself to a careful re-examination of the last year, the last ten years, the last thirty years of his life. Through it all, the house creaked, and Zolf listened.


	2. Day

“Do you think we could get rid of this?” Zolf was holding possibly the ugliest lamp he had ever seen, in all his many years of adventuring. The beaded skirt of the shade swung violently as he shook it at Oscar, his other hand still groping in the tea chest for the next monstrosity Oscar Wilde had deemed worth keeping.  
  
“No!” The lamp was suddenly swept out of his hands and cradled to Oscar’s chest. The sight of the man he seemed to be spending his life with cradling a nude female figure in a truly alarming shade of puce was more than Zolf could cope with at this time of the morning. “She’s a classic.” Oscar said protectively, giving her pride of place on a table. Zolf sighed, deciding to move it later when Oscar had lost interest. “There should be a matching one in there.” He said happily, and Zolf immediately stopped groping blindly in the box.   
  
“Where were you keeping this stuff?” Zolf was half muffled with his head in a tea chest. He had spotted a similarly horrifying male figure in puce at the bottom of the box, and was carefully working around it.  
  
“Here and there.” Oscar was opening yet another box of books, and re-arranging the groaning shelves to accept more volumes. He murmured fretfully under his breath before continuing. “With friends, you know how it is.” He turned and flashed Zolf a vague smile before returning to his rapidly expanding library. Zolf, who had made sure that his possessions did not number more than he could carry after losing one too many to disasters, did not know how it was. And he couldn’t imagine the sorts of friends who would store these things for Oscar. Well, he could, but a part of him he wasn’t proud of snarled and snapped at the thought of them so he tried to ignore it. He went back to exploring the tea chest, grateful at least that this was one of the last that had arrived after Oscar sent for his belongings. When he had suggested Zolf did the same Zolf had shrugged, and pointedly emptied his pockets and his bag of holding onto the bed. No more had been said about it.  
  
“Oh, there he is!” Oscar’s voice was suddenly much closer to Zolf’s ear than he was expecting. He jumped and straightened up, only to have his head make contact with the warmth of Oscar’s chest where he was leaning over him.  
  
“Where did you come from?” He snapped, harsher than he intended, but Oscar wasn’t listening. He was too engrossed in lifting the second lamp from the box, smiling like a mad thing. He twisted to put the lamp on the table next to its mate, and then knelt so he could wrap his arms around Zolf’s shoulders from behind, turning him to appreciate the lamps in all their glory.  
  
“Aren’t they exquisite?” He said, kissing the shell of Zolf’s ear. Zolf swallowed.  
  
“They’re… unique.”  
  
“They are.” Oscar was still beaming. “Never another pair made.”  
  
“You surprise me.”  
  
“I always hoped I’d find somewhere to put them.” Oscar sank back to sit on the floor, tugging at Zolf until he acquiesed and came with him. “They’ve been shut up in the dark for too long.” Zolf risked a look at Oscar’s face as he sat back to lean on his chest. He was completely, terrifyingly sincere.  
  
“Do you think your study is the best place for them?” He tried.  
  
“Do you think they should be in the living room?” Oscar seemed delighted with the idea. Zolf shook his head just a little too violently.  
  
“No.” He said quickly. “Better to keep them here now I think about it. You’ll see them more if they’re in here.” The look Oscar gave him at that was just a little too knowing for Zolf’s liking, but he let it be.  
  
“Nearly finished.” He said instead. “Thank the Gods.”  
  
“If you’d warned me beforehand we would be housing half the British museum, I might not have agreed.” Zolf grumbled.  
  
“Then I pride myself on my discretion.”  
  
“You’re a menace.” Oscar laughed and shook his head.  
  
“No, I’m a magpie. I’ve got an eye for pretty things.” He kissed the side of Zolf’s head and got a deadly stare for his troubles.  
  
“Your definition of ‘pretty’ may need some refining.”  
  
“Don’t do yourself down.”  
  
“I was referring to the lamps.” Oscar gave him a look of mock outrage.  
  
“I thought you liked them!”  
  
“You’ll notice how careful I was not to say that.” Zolf looked around the room. It was not small and yet Oscar had contrived to clutter it, finding something for every surface as if it were some kind of competition. “You spent too long around dragons.” He remarked, eyes still scanning the room. “This is your hoard.” Oscar shrugged, as if this might not be too bad an explanation.  
  
“It’s my life.” He replied. “There was a time when this was all I was.” Zolf turned in the circle of his arms until they were facing each other. They were straying dangerously close to the ragged borders of who they were before Japan, before they had happened to each other. It was a conversation usually reserved for whispers in the dark, and it seemed strange to examine it in daylight. Oscar smiled at the lamps on the table, a little rueful now. “It’s still a part of me.”  
  
“Then I suppose I will have to put up with it.” Zolf’s tone was scolding, but his eyes were soft. “Like the rest of you.” He paused. “I wish I could show you the same.” He was used by now to the swooping sensation that came every time he did this, let a little bit more of himself melt into the thing that was between them. So far only good had come of it, and yet the fear never receded.  
  
“Do you really have nothing? Not even left at the temple?” Zolf shrugged.  
  
“Anything I left home with is somewhere off the coast of Norway. After that my new employers didn’t really encourage sentimentality, and Poseidon is at the austere end of the cults.”  
  
“Despite all the playing at being sailors?” Oscar twinkled. “I’d always hoped they’d be more fun than that.”  
  
“That you remained undrowned for all that time is still a mystery to me.” Zolf replied.  
  
“But if you’d drowned me then, think of what you would have missed.”  
  
“Those lamps for a start.” Zolf’s expression was tinged with the relief of having handed another part of himself to Oscar, and not had it broken in two. He leant forward to kiss him gently, and when Oscar closed his eyes he pressed his advantage and toppled him onto the carpet.  
  
“Cheat.” Oscar murmured as Zolf hovered above him, dropping kisses onto his face as Oscar pretended to squirm away.  
  
“Tactician.” Zolf replied between kisses.  
  
“Anything for a height advantage.” Zolf was about to reply to that with retributive tickling, when he heard a sound that wasn’t there.  
  
*Zolf?* Hamid’s voice was raspier than it was in Zolf’s memories. He supposed that was what happened when your mental voice box was trying to find a compromise between halfling and dragon. Zolf sat up, and Oscar followed, looking concerned. ‘Hamid’ Zolf mouthed.  
  
*We’ll be there at the end of the week. Einstein is bringing us. Looking forward to it!* Zolf concentrated.  
  
*Alright Hamid. See you soon.* Zolf tried to think of something to fill the remaining words, but he’d always been rubbish at sendings. He waited instead until the tingle of the magic faded, and his eyes refocused on the world around him.  
  
“Always had an appalling sense of timing that man.” Oscar said, standing up and dusting himself down. Zolf followed suit, the moment broken. “What did he say?”  
  
“They’re coming at the end of the week. Einstein is bringing them.” Oscar grimaced.  
  
“They need to tame a different teleporter.”  
  
“Why? Einstein is delightful.” Zolf only said it to watch the spasm of irritation pass across Oscar’s face.  
  
“It’s at moments like this I think very hard about what it is I love about you.”  
  
“I am also delightful.” Zolf replied, grinning. Oscar shook his head.  
  
“I suppose we should make sure we’re ready for their arrival.”  
  
“We have food, we have beds. What more could they want?” Oscar looked appalled.  
  
“I’m always forgetting that hospitality is not among your many gifts.” He returned to the fretful rearrangement of his books. “These are some of your oldest friends, try to make them feel welcome.”  
  
“Of course I will.” Zolf grumbled, half under his breath.  
  
“Of course you will.” Oscar repeated cheerfully. He went to ruffle Zolf’s hair, caught his eye and thought better of it. Zolf gave him an approving nod, then stretched up to ruffle Oscar’s hair instead.  
  
“Go back to your books and trinkets. I’ll make sure our guests will have something to eat while they’re here.”  
  
“These are objet d’art.” Oscar protested.  
  
“Objectionable maybe.” Zolf grinned at Oscar. “You work on keeping the most… unique pieces out of public view, and I promise to keep feeding you too.”  
  
“I am too easily swayed.” Oscar said mournfully, and went back to the tea chest.  
  
“Yes you are.” Zolf agreed. He kissed Oscar on the cheek. “Try not to have your head turned by naked lamps while I’m gone.”  
  
“Yes dear.” Oscar said, already distracted and not listening. The grin on Zolf’s face lasted most of the way to the kitchen.


	3. Night

Oscar hated the cold. He had hated it for as long as Zolf had known him, was a creature of warm sunshine or cosy fires depending on the season. And yet, with the winter nights drawing in and hard frosts making the world brittle, he had taken to walking in the evenings when the warmth of the sun had been exchanged for bright hard moonlight. Sometimes Zolf went with him, sometimes he left him to wander alone. The land around the house was quiet but the impression of isolation was false, there was a small town not more than a mile down the road. They both preferred civilisation at a distance these days, but not entirely absent. Zolf looked up from the book he was reading and realised that Oscar was pulling his boots and his great coat on, winding his ridiculous scarf around his neck.  
  
“Shall I come with you?” Although most nights Oscar was grateful for the company, Zolf still always asked. He understood that there were things in this place, ghosts Oscar needed to exorcise and which he might prefer to lay to rest alone. Zolf was still faintly surprised that this was where they had ended up, had assumed in his idle daydreams back in Japan that if they had the chance to settle, it would be somewhere with no memories for either of them. But from the first time he had seen a sketched map in Oscar’s notebook, read the words he could understand on the page and stared at the curling forms of the ones in a language Oscar never spoke, he had known this was where they were headed. He had reasoned to himself that it was all much of a muchness to him, that one part of the world was very much like another. It may rain slightly more than he liked but the land was soft and green, and their home had the steady firmness that came with old stone.  
  
“Please.” Oscar held a hand out to him and he levered himself out of the chair to go in search of his boots and coat, more worn and better used than Oscar’s.  
  
“Where to tonight?” He asked as he did up his laces.  
  
“Just over the fields and back.” Oscar replied, waiting by the back door. He had produced from somewhere a woollen hat that was most likely very stylish, and to Zolf’s eye fundamentally impractical. “I am aware it’s getting a little cold for these excursions.”  
  
“I’m not complaining.” Zolf replied as they left the house and started down the garden path that lead to to the stile and the footpath around the edges of the field.  
  
“Well of course you wouldn’t complain, you’re a...” Oscar began absently. Then realising his mistake stopped, and looked down to meet Zolf’s challenging gaze.  
  
“I would choose your next six words very carefully.” Zolf rumbled.  
  
“You’re a stoic. I love you?” Oscar tried hopefully. Zolf did his best to maintain his glower.  
  
“Good enough I suppose.” They continued in silence for a while, which was often the way with these evening walks. When they reached the edge of the field Oscar stopped, and leaned on the fence to stare out at where the land began curve, dropping steadily for about half a mile until it met the sea.  
  
“I didn’t grow up here y’know.” Oscar said at last, still looking out over the fence. Zolf, a veteran of these staring contests Oscar liked to have with the landscape, had made himself comfortable on the foot-board of a nearby stile. It was muddy, but there were good and practical reasons Zolf kept around a man who could prestidigitate. Oscar’s words startled him out of his own reverie, and he looked up.  
  
“No?” Zolf had honestly not thought about it much. To him, all of Ireland was Oscar’s country.  
  
“No. I was born in Dublin.” He gestured vaguely to the north. “Grew up there mostly.” He wasn’t looking at Zolf, still staring out into the distance.  
  
“But you didn’t want to go back?” Zolf prodded gently. Between them they had played both parts in this game too many times for Zolf not to know his role.  
  
“No.” He turned his head then and smiled at Zolf. “I wanted to try something new.” He sighed. “I sometimes feel sorry for dragging you here.” “You couldn’t drag me anywhere if you tried.” Zolf stated flatly. “If you could, I wouldn’t wake up in an armchair with a crick in my neck nearly as often.”  
  
“I may be leaving you there to teach you a lesson.”  
  
“You wouldn’t do that, you wouldn’t want the favour returned.” Oscar nodded his head in acquiescence to the point.  
  
“There was no dragging.” Zolf repeated just to make it clear. “But out of curiosity, why come back at all if not to go home?” Oscar sighed, and moved over to where Zolf still sat on the stile. He rested his head on top of Zolf’s before he spoke again, and Zolf wrapped his arms around him, bringing him as close as two great coats would allow in the frigid air.  
  
“The land is good.” He said eventually. “For me, I mean. The land is good and the people are alive with stories. They were my first focus.” The words rumbled through Zolf, and he held his breath. They never talked about this, neither of them. They had seen each other perform acts of magic, they were aware of the centres of each other’s power, and yet it remained one of the few areas of silence left between them. Zolf knew that for all Oscar used small tricks flippantly, he was capable of great feats when he chose. That language he never spoke he sometimes sung, and if Zolf had thought a little more about it he would have realised long ago where Oscar had learnt his craft. Bards needed stories, they fed and grew on the ways the sentient races explained the world to themselves. He could remember the quiet times in Japan, where Oscar had huddled with Azu while she told him stories of her village and her people, and how his hungry eyes had watched the villagers as they prepared meagre feasts for clandestine festivals, and told him the stories of each one. He’d been happy then, in all the horror, and Zolf had seen it, and been glad of it, and never really understood what it meant.  
  
“But I worry about you.” Oscar said, breaking into Zolf’s thoughts. He looked up, dislodging Oscar from the top of his head.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“You don’t seem settled.” Oscar said bluntly.  
  
“I’ve been having some trouble settling.” Zolf admitted. “But for goodness sake’s give me some time Oscar, I need to adjust.”  
  
“You never had this much trouble adjusting to anywhere else we travelled.” Zolf winced, conceding the point.  
  
“I will be fine.” He said firmly. “I love it here. I love the house. I don’t want to be endlessly travelling anymore. We discussed this so many times I can recite it by heart, please don’t make us go through it again.”  
  
“I just…” Oscar stopped and tried again. “I’m not always good at thinking of other people before myself.”  
  
“I hadn’t noticed.” Said Zolf dryly.  
  
“Yes, thank you.” Oscar huffed. “But this is what me trying looks like, so I’m not going to apologise for it.”  
  
“You’re always trying.” Zolf said fondly, and reached up to stroke a hand down Oscar’s face. Oscar, the human house cat, nuzzled into it. “But I really am fine. And I really am happy. And there simply isn’t room for another mother hen in this relationship.”  
  
“I learnt from the best.” Oscar smiled. He stepped back, and offered Zolf a hand to lever himself up from the stile. Zolf gave him a black look, but took it.  
  
“Come on. Let’s get you home before you maudlin yourself to death.” He grumbled, and set off on the path back to the house.

It was growing very cold in the house by the time they returned. Zolf, who had more experience at building camp fires than those safely contained in a grate, had nonetheless thrown himself into the task with admirable enthusiasm in the past year. He liked to think it was the thrill of learning a new skill, but he had to admit that watching Oscar shuffling around in three dressing gowns looking thoroughly miserable had also been a motivating factor. He was just getting started when Oscar knelt beside him.  
  
“No. Let’s just go to bed.” He said.  
  
“It’ll be freezing.” Zolf grumbled, not giving up on his careful laying of logs in the grate.  
  
“You’ll keep me warm.”  
  
“You mean you’ll leech heat from me like some kind of wraith.”  
  
“You are a deeply romantic soul.” Oscar tugged at him until he gave up and stood. Zolf could withstand nagging on a normal day, but the bed would be soft and he was so tired. It would warm up quickly enough, as long as he could keep Oscar’s icy hands away from him.  
  
“Alright, alright.” The fire he had laid would do for the morning, he supposed. Oscar, delighted to have won so easily, was already heading for the main staircase, with just the hint of an insouciant spring in his step. Zolf rolled his eyes and followed. By the time he reached the bedroom Oscar was already burrowing his way under the covers. For someone who kept up an air of sauve sophistication during the day he was the most ridiculous sleeper Zolf had ever met, a constant mess of wriggling and tying himself in the bedsheets until he finally passed out. Zolf, who’s sleeping habits had been tamed by the narrow bunks of the royal navy, bore it with what he thought of as great fortitude and only sometimes teased him about how many of his previous bed partners could attest to this messy, hilarious side of him. Oscar always huffed in response, and pointed out that he had always avoided actually sleeping in the presence of people he could not necessarily trust. That declaration had given Zolf a warm glow he did not want to admit to, but was not above provoking again from time to time. He waited until the whirlwind of movement had ceased before climbing in himself. The sheets were cold, but not icy, and the friction of a squirming Oscar Wilde had already begun to warm them. He settled himself on his pillows and waited for the inevitable, which came a few seconds when Oscar, forever in search of warmth, curled himself around him. He was heavy and relaxed, whatever it was he thought about on his evening walks seemed to calm him.  
  
“Tell me a story.” He muttered in Zolf’s ear. Zolf couldn’t tell if it was an actual request or just a passing thought slipping out of a half sleeping mouth. Most nights, he would have ignored it, and curled Oscar’s arms tighter about himself, knowing he would be asleep within seconds. But tonight he was thinking about land, and stories, and home.   
  
“Ok.” He said. He felt Oscar tense in surprise and then lean up so he could see Zolf’s face, his eyes fully open now.  
  
“Really?” He sounded startled, but happy in a way Zolf had yet found an effective method of refusing.  
  
“It’ll be about dwarves.” Zolf cautioned. “There’ll be mining in it.”  
  
“All my favourite things.” Oscar thought about this for a moment, and then amended. “Some of my favourite things, anyway.”  
  
“My mother used to tell me this one.” In his head, Zolf was already far away. Oscar settled himself into a posture of watchful interest, his head resting in the crook of his arm. Zolf ran a finger down his cheek, and Oscar kissed the tip of it as it passed.  
  
“Alright then.” Zolf’s voice was soft but gruff, the accent more pronounced than usual. He settled himself facing Oscar, watching his face, and began.


	4. Interlude: The Three Dwarven Brothers

The Three Dwarven Brothers 

There were once three brothers, who worked together in their father’s mine. They all worked hard, and one day each hoped to have a mine of their own once they had made their fortunes. However, the mine was old, and many of the good seams had already been used up. The brothers dug every day, and made new tunnels and workings, but although they worked very hard they were not very successful.

One day, when they were walking to the mine in the morning, the brothers saw an old man in the distance, sitting on a rock that poked out of the hillside and looking as if he may be lost in the hills. The two elder brothers wanted to leave the man, keen to get to the mine and start the day’s work, but the youngest brother, who’s name was Ruan, persuaded them to come with him and find out if the old man needed help. Sighing, the two elder brothers followed the youngest away from the path and up the hill to where the old man sat, staring into the distance from his seat on the boulder.  
  
“Are you well Grandfather?” Ruan asked politely. The old man turned to him and smiled.  
  
“I am quite well.” He said. “But I am afraid I am lost in these hills.”  
  
“Where do you want to go?”  
  
“Oh here and there.” The old man said vaguely. “I’m afraid these old bones are not what they once were. I tire very easily these days.”  
  
“Would you like to come back to our house?” Ruan asked. “We could give you food and water, and help you find your way again.” His two brothers grumbled a little at this, afraid of losing a whole day’s work to this strange old man. The old man, on the other hand, seemed delighted with the suggestion.  
  
“How kind of you.” He said, including all three brothers in his smile. He reached out his hands to the two eldest, who reluctantly helped him from his stone seat. Ruan passed the old man the wooden staff he had lain down beside the rock, and the four of them made their way back down the hill towards the brothers’ house. The brothers never did make it to the mine that day, and instead they sat with the old man as he ate and drank, and Ruan found him clean clothes and better shoes from the old things that had been left behind by their father. Branok, his eldest brother, complained to him that he was giving all their best to the old man, with no promise that there would be anything in return.  
  
“Kindness is its own reward.” Said Ruan. Later Kenver, the middle brother, complained that the old man had eaten almost enough food to feed one of the brothers for a week.  
  
“We need that food.” He said. “And it will do no good for us in an old man’s belly.”  
  
“Kindness is its own reward.” Ruan repeated, and then offered the old man a nip from the brandy bottle the brothers saved for special occasions. The old man cheerfully assented, and soon all three brothers were sitting around the table with the old man, telling him of their father’s worn out mine and their own dreams of owning mines of their own. The old man seemed very interested in the story, but as darkness fell he began to yawn and nod over his drink. Eventually Ruan took the man up to his own bed, and that night he slept in the parlour, beside the embers of the dying fire.

When the three brothers awoke the next morning, they were surprised to find the old man sitting upright at their table, looking much better than the night before. He smiled at their surprised faces and explained that he was a powerful wizard, but when they had come upon him yesterday he had used up all his power trying to cast an important spell on the rock they had found him on.  
  
“But thanks to your kindness I now know how to cast the spell.” Said the wizard happily. “And I will reward you for helping me. I may be able to grant you even greater rewards if you help me again.” The two elder brothers were cheered by this, and after breakfast when the wizard requested to see their mine, they eagerly took him to it. The wizard inspected the stones at the mines entrance, and nodded to himself.  
  
“I can help you.” He said. “But this will require me to perform great magic. In return you must do something else for me.” Branok and Kenver nodded quickly, eager to see what the wizard could do to help their mine, but Ruan was concerned.  
  
“What service do you require?” He asked. The wizard smiled at him.  
  
“It is no great thing, for strong young dwarves like yourselves.” He said. “I wish for you to make me the finest axe you can from the metals I will show you in this mine. Whoever’s axe I judge to be the finest will win a great favour from me.”  
  
“How will you judge the axe?” Ruan asked, but by then the wizard had already entered the mine tunnels, Branok and Kenver following close behind The wizard cast tiny balls of light that followed them as they walked along the dark tunnels, until they reached a junction the brothers knew well. To one side of them lay the workings they had mined with their father until the seams were no more, while on the other was a caved in section of the mine that had not been opened since their grandfather’s time.  
  
“Here will do.” Said the wizard, and he began to mutter some words of incantation. The air around the brothers began to buzz with the magic power, and then without warning the wizard plunged his staff through the solid rock at his feet. There was a bright flash and the gritty taste of stone dust in the air around them. After a moment the flash faded, and the brothers could see that the right-hand tunnel, which had been blocked by spoil and rockfall, was now open and divided into three. The wizard nodded to himself and strode passed them back to the mine entrance, as the three brothers stared at the new tunnels in wonder.  
  
“Remember, the finest axe.” The wizard said. “I shall return this way in one month’s time, and judge your creations then.” He left the three brothers staring at the new tunnels in front of them. In the first tunnel was a clear seam of gold, and in the second a fine seam of silver ore. The third tunnel however held two much duller seams, ores of copper and tin. Branok, the eldest brother, turned to his siblings.  
  
“I will take the first tunnel.” He said. “For I am the strongest of all of us and will be able to mine the most metal. I will make an axe of the finest gold and win the prize to share with my brothers.” Neither Kenver nor Ruan thought that Branok would really share the prize with them, but he was the eldest.  
  
“Then I will take the silver tunnel.” Said Kenver quickly, before Ruan could open his mouth. “For it is the middle tunnel, and as the middle brother it is my right to choose it. I shall make an axe of the finest silver, and it will glow like moonshine. I am sure to win the prize to share with my brothers.”  
  
“Ruan can take the third tunnel then.” Branok said. “For it would be a kindness to us, and as he has told us, he needs no reward for his kindness.”  
  
“Very well.” Said Ruan, and the three brothers began to work in their tunnels, following the seams of ore into the earth.

Over the weeks they collected ore and smelted it. Both Branok and Kenver collected their precious metals ready to forge their axes. They laughed at poor Ruan, who was smelting the ore of both copper and tin, and worked late into the night after his brothers had gone home, minding the bellows and watching the stacks. They thought him foolish to try and make an axe of each metal, when he should just have picked one seam to follow. The two brothers looked at their hoards of metal nuggets, and both thought he would make the finest and most beautiful axe the world had ever seen. Finally the day came when the three brothers forged their axes. Even then, when Branok and Kenver were long done with the furnace and the fire, and had taken their axes home to sharpen and decorate, Ruan worked hard into the night. Finally when dawn came he returned home with his axe wrapped carefully in a piece of old oilcloth from the forge. Both Branok and Kenver laughed when they saw the plain axe that Ruan had made, too dull to be copper and too dark to be tin. It was not nearly as fine as their beautiful gold and silver axes.

The next day the old wizard returned, and knocked on the door of the brothers home. The two elder brothers were keen to show him their axes immediately, but the old wizard held up a hand to stop them and Ruan offered him a drink and a place to sit. The wizard thanked him kindly, and when he had rested he told the brothers he would judge their axes at the rock where they had first found him. The two elder brothers were dismayed that there would be another delay before they found out who had won the competition, but realising they could not argue with the old wizard, they wrapped their axes in fine velvet and followed him to the rock outcropping where they had first seen the old man sitting. When they reached the rock, the wizard took the fine velvet cloths from the two elder brothers, and the rough oilcloth from Ruan. He examined each of their axes in turn, and then stood back.  
  
“The final test of your axes will be one of strength.” He said. He gestured to the rock beside them. “I wish you to split this rock in two.” All three brothers stared at him, for this was something they knew no axe could manage. ‘This must be some magic.’ Branok thought, ‘my axe is the finest and my arm is the strongest, so I will cleave this rock like a knife cleaves butter.’. Confidently, he strode up to the rock and swung his golden axe, the metal glinting in the sunlight. But when the axe blade struck the rock the soft gold bent and crumpled, and the fine axe was broken.  
  
“Let me try.” Said Kenver, the second brother. He brought his axe of silver to the rock and swung as his brother had done. The axe struck the rock with a great sound, but it too bent and blunted against the hard stone, a great crack appearing in the blade. While both brothers looked at their broken weapons in dismay, Ruan stepped forward.  
  
“No axe can cut stone.” He said.  
  
“And yet you must try.” Said the wizard smiling. Ruan walked to the rock and examined it carefully, looking for any fault or crack into which he might insert his axe. He knew his axe was much stronger than his brothers, for he had spent his long hours at the forge learning to mix the copper and tin to make a metal stronger than both. His bronze axe was not as beautiful as his brothers, but it had taken a good sharp edge. Eventually Ruan found what he was looking for, a thin fault that ran through the rock, widened just enough at one end by the rain to allow his axe to be forced inside it. He took aim carefully, and swung with all his might for the crack. The axe hit the rock with a tremendous clang, and the crack began to open along the rock, racing through it as if it were glass. Ruan twisted his axe in the fault-line, and the rock fell to pieces. He looked up at the wizard, but then jumped back as water began to well from the scar where the rock had been. First a spring, and then a stream, and then the water began to hollow out a channel before their eyes, deepening and widening until a river flowed before them, deep banks sunk into the hillside. The wizard turned to the three brothers, and spoke to Branok and Kenver.  
  
“You see an old man and think only of a burden, you see metals and think only of their worth. You see a wizard and think only of magic.” The wizard shook his head at the two elder brothers. “You must judge with your heart as well as your eyes. If your heart is true, your eyes will not deceive you.” He turned to Ruan. “You have passed the test.” He said. As he spoke Ruan’s axe, twisted and blunted by the rock, began to flatten before his eyes, the blade returning to the shape and keenness he had worked so hard on. “Take this river as your reward. You may have everything it provides for you.” The wizard bowed to Ruan, and then struck his staff into the ground at his feet, and disappeared. The three brothers looked at each other.  
  
“It’s only a river.” Branok said, leaning over the bank and looking at the steady flow. “It’s just water.”  
  
“Enjoy your river, brother.” Kenver added, and the two brothers laughed and walked away from the hillside in the direction of the mine, leaving Ruan alone on the riverbank. When his brothers had disappeared from sight Ruan looked over the bank and into the river channel. It was indeed just a river, but Ruan was sure he could see something in the mud and stones at the river’s bottom, reflecting the bright sunlight. He lay down on his stomach and reached into the water, scooping up a handful of river silt. He let the sand run through his fingers, and it left behind small nuggets, pieces of the purest gold and silver. Ruan smiled to himself, and pocketed the tiny fragments.

Ruan’s family grew and flourished by the river, his children and grandchildren panned the river for the precious metals that never seemed to end. Ruan’s brothers, at first green with envy, eventually came to see that their brother’s good fortune was a blessing. The three brothers were reunited, and Ruan gave his brothers money to start mines of their own, just as they had always wished. Ten generations later, their families still mine and pan the hillsides and river for gold.

*********

“And they lived happily ever after?” Oscar asked sleepily.  
  
“No, they feud and bicker and occasionally murder each other.”  
  
“A kind of happy I suppose.” Zolf’s mouth quirked a half smile.  
  
“I suppose.” Oscar’s eyes were nearly closed, his mouth slack and relaxed as he half mumbled the words. He looked sated and happy, as if Zolf’s story was a fine meal and good wine. Zolf wondered if he would work a silly fairy tale into whatever it was that powered his magic, if that was even how it worked. He still wasn’t sleepy, tired as he was, but he was content for now to watch Oscar sleep, the creaking house for once a comfort.


	5. Afternoon

Hamid and Azu arrived on Friday afternoon. Zolf suspected there was some rule of propriety and politeness in this that Hamid and Oscar were aware of and he and Azu were not nearly posh enough to understand. The scrape of gravel as they appeared in the drive, and the high speed conversation of an Einstein in full flow announced their arrival long before the door knocker did.  
  
“Hamid, Azu.” Zolf opened the door, not wide, but wide enough to be seen. It was an old habit that was very hard to break.  
  
“He means hello and welcome.” Oscar said from behind him.  
  
“Zolf!” Hamid sounded as warm and pleased as Zolf had been aiming for and had somehow missed. He opened the door wider, and Hamid, taking this as the invitation it very nearly was, stepped forward to give him an effusive hug.  
  
“Hi Hamid.” Zolf said into his shoulder. Azu was following, at a slightly more sedate pace. As Zolf retreated backwards to allow them into the house she ducked under the lintel and entered the hall.  
  
“You have a beautiful house.” She said. Oscar stepped forward and gave her a hug of her own.  
  
“Thank you, we’re very fond of it.”  
  
“Hello Oscar.” The hug Hamid bestowed on him was briefer than the one he had given Zolf, but much less chilly than it might have been a year ago. “It’s good to see you both.”  
  
“I thought Cel was coming?” Zolf asked, shutting the front door against the chill. As he went he brushed past Azu and they smiled at each other, their own form of greeting.  
  
“They said they would arrive in a day or two. Just one or two things to sort out in the village.”  
  
“That’s not exactly what they said.” Azu frowned.  
  
“Well no, but I assumed the bit about the fire was hyperbole.”  
  
“Why would you assume that?”  
  
“That is a very good point.” Hamid shook his head. “They said it was a very small fire.” He continued by way of some comfort. “Mostly contained to the laboratory I think.”  
  
“As long as they don’t choose to bring it with them.” Oscar replied.  
  
“I don’t think they would…” Hamid paused and considered. “It’s not that likely.” He finished, a little lamely.  
  
“Einstein might forbid it.” Azu said. The whole group thought about this for a moment.  
  
“Well, we’ll see them before they get in the house.” Zolf said pragmatically. He remembered with a sort of horror that he was the host, but by the time the thought had crossed his mind Oscar was already leading them into the living room, finding them seats and offering drinks. Zolf followed on, feeling a little out of place in his own house.  
  
“It’s not even as if you can ask us about the trip.” Hamid was saying as he entered, looking comfortable in a squashy armchair that Zolf liked to use for reading in the evenings.  
  
“There’s nothing like magic for the elimination of small talk.” Oscar agreed. Zolf edged around the room, still feeling awkward. He caught Azu’s eye and she moved slightly on the sofa she was sitting on in an invitation for him to join her. He took it gratefully.  
  
“How’s the family?” He asked as he sat down. Azu smiled at him, apparently neither of them quite knew how to cope with Oscar and Hamid’s combined bonhomie.  
  
“Very well.” She smiled. “Although I had forgotten how exhausting they can be.”  
  
“Ready to get back to temple life?”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“Or maybe that would be a bit too far the other way?” That was a world Zolf knew and understood, the close scrutiny and interminable patterns of life in a religious community.  
  
“Perhaps something with a little more variety.” Azu conceded. “Ed has suggested we should go travelling together.” Zolf blinked at her.  
  
“Ed. Our Ed? Are you sure that would be wise?”  
  
“No. But Tjelvar is likely to accompany him, which would be a blessing for all of us.”  
  
“Trying to get him to only act on his best evil slaying impulses?”  
  
“All of Ed’s impulses are his best. That is in many ways the problem.” Azu’s hands were picking at the cloth of her trousers. She had resisted the urge to come in full regalia, but she wore a jerkin with the symbol of Aphrodite emblazoned across the front of it. It glowed softly pink, like early morning sunlight. “But I think maybe I would be more use to Aphrodite with them than I will be at the temple.” Her hands twitched again as she said this, and Zolf resisted the urge to say that she should think of what she wanted, not what some Goddess with a passing interest in her life might want her to do. He looked up and Oscar caught his eye for a second from across the room, obviously using his damnable ability to split his attention and listen to two conversations at once. He gave Zolf the barest hint of a questioning glance, a query that they had perfected telegraphing silently across rooms when they were still in Japan. In return Zolf gave an almost imperceptible nod, an indication that everything was, for now, ok.  
  
“Would anyone like some tea?” Oscar asked, breaking from his conversation with Hamid.  
  
“I assume this means you’d like me to make some?” Zolf turned his attention, and the full power of an arched eyebrow, on Oscar.  
  
“That would depend on how much you want my presence in the kitchen.” Oscar replied, taking no notice of the eyebrow. Zolf huffed, but he stood up.  
  
“There are rules about you and the kitchen, of which you are well aware.”  
  
“And I wouldn’t want to disturb an artist in his studio.” Oscar simpered. Azu, Zolf noticed, was smiling at them both with open amusement. Hamid’s expression was more complicated.  
  
“Alright, alright, I’m going. No need for that.” Zolf left the room and headed down the tiled hallway towards the kitchen. He was still aware of the sounds his feet made on the tiles, deadened by shoes but still striking the ground just slightly harder than flesh and bone. It had been a long time since he had really thought of his prosthetics as anything more than just another part of him, but just like everything else he was more aware of them now they were in this house. He put the heavy kettle on the stove, still lit and warm from breakfast. In a moment of panic he wondered if they had remembered to unpack more than two mugs, but when he opened a cupboard he found that Oscar had populated it with some he had obviously had in storage. There would be words about this later, Oscar was supposed to be staying out of the kitchen. Zolf was not willing to risk the halo of destruction that seemed to surround him whenever he come anywhere in the vicinity. Also, the mugs were inevitably hideous. He picked two of the least awful ones to join the usual two that sat on the kitchen side, and waited for the water to boil.  
  
“Zolf?” Zolf, who had been drifting in the warmth of the kitchen, started when Hamid’s voice interrupted him.  
  
“Hamid!” Zolf cursed himself for sounding surprised.  
  
“I thought I’d come and say hello.” The ‘away from the others’ was not spoken, but was strongly implied. “It’s good to see you.”  
  
“And you.” Zolf began to fiddle with the tea things, wondering if the kettle was hot enough yet for him to start warming the pot.  
  
“You seem happy.” Hamid’s voice rose questioningly at the end.  
  
“I am, very happy.” Zolf was doing his best to keep any habitual gruffness from his voice. It was almost working.  
  
“I’m glad.” Hamid seated himself at the kitchen table and gave Zolf a nervous half smile. “I’ve got to say, this isn’t how I thought things would work out.”  
  
“No, I don’t think any of us could have seen this coming.” Zolf agreed, not looking up.  
  
“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think it’s bad. I was just, even after everything, just surprised.”  
  
“You weren’t the only one.”  
  
“You two were always so together in Japan, I suppose it was inevitable.”  
  
“You weren’t supposed to know in Japan.” Zolf muttered, and Hamid laughed.  
  
“No offence, but I don’t think either of you will be taking up acting any time soon.”  
  
“Don’t tell Oscar that, I’m fairly sure he has thespian delusions.” Zolf turned his full attention on Hamid, tea forgotten. “Was it really that obvious?”  
  
“I’d imagine some of Shoin’s zombies didn’t know. Maybe the odd visiting seabird.” Hamid was still laughing at him.  
  
“We thought we were subtle.”  
  
“We thought you were hilarious.” Hamid’s smile turned soft. “And very sweet. Strange, the whole thing was really strange, just so we’re clear, but sweet.” Zolf made a face.  
  
“Strange is fine, but I don’t know how I feel about ‘sweet’.”  
  
“I think you’re stuck with it.” Hamid looked around the kitchen as the kettle whistled on the stove and Zolf turned his attention back to it. “It is a lovely house.”  
  
“We like it.” Zolf was concentrating on pouring a little warm water into the pot, swirling it round before tipping it out and adding the tea.  
  
“I suppose I just never thought you would settle down. Either of you.”  
  
“We haven’t ‘settled down’, not like that.” Zolf protested. He was spooning tea with more concentration than was really required. One for each person and one for the pot, it was hardly Cel level science.  
  
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Hamid protested. “I just meant, you have a home now. Not a ship or an inn or a temple.”  
  
“I’m well aware of that.” Zolf touched the handle of the kettle with a fingertip before he remembered to wrap a tea-towel around it. He hissed and drew back.  
  
“It’s good.” Hamid insisted, sounding a little bewildered. “But you don’t seem happy. Or at least” he added hastily, “not as happy as I thought you would be.”  
  
“We’re not newlyweds Hamid. There’s no blushing bride carried over the threshold here.” Hamid shook his head, clearly trying to dislodge that image. Zolf concentrated on pouring hot water into the teapot.  
  
“I know that. But Oscar seems settled. Oscar seems delighted with everything. You… don’t. Not as much, anyway.”  
  
“Ever occur to you that we might just react differently to things?” Zolf grumbled as he tucked a cosy over the pot. “Oscar’s a ball of emotion. I’m not.” Hamid fixed him with a stern look.  
  
“I’ve seen you together since we finished in Japan. I saw you in France and in Prague. I know exactly how much emotion you have invested in this, no matter what you might tell us. Or yourself.” Zolf, devoid of things to do while the tea brewed, fiddled with the edge of the tea towel.  
  
“I’m not unhappy.” He said defiantly.  
  
“I never said you were.” The morning light filtering through the kitchen window made Hamid’s skin look more burnished than ever. His eyes were changing too, Zolf noticed, still the same liquid brown but a golden ring was encircling the iris, the pupil appearing as an ellipse in some lights.  
  
“I’m not.” Zolf sat down opposite Hamid and sighed deeply. “I’m not sure what I am. Other than not sleeping.” He ran a hand across his face. “I’m definitely not doing that.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“No idea.” Zolf couldn’t help but look at Hamid’s hands, folded in front of him of the table. The claws were more obvious than Zolf remembered, not present exactly, but hiding closer to the surface of his skin. “Not a problem I’ve had before. Well not since…” He waved a vague hand towards the living room, encompassing Oscar and all he entailed in the gesture.  
  
“Maybe it’s the house?” Hamid’s speech had an upward lilt again, and Zolf narrowed his eyes, trying to decide if it was natural or studied.  
  
“We’ve slept in a hundred houses. Inns. Boats. Out under the stars even.” Zolf shuddered slightly at the memory of that. He could cope alright when there was no other option, but Oscar Wilde was not a creature built for voluntary camping. “No problems. Well, no problems I created anyhow. And this is nicer than any of those.” “Yeah, but this also yours.”  
  
“And why should that make a difference?” Zolf winced internally when he heard the defensiveness return to his voice. He stood up and turned his back on Hamid to pour the tea.  
  
“Well, it’s a big change?” Hamid tried.  
  
“Why? We owned the inn you know. Or the Harlequins did.”  
  
“The inn couldn’t have been more different than this.” Hamid said, his own temper rising. “You can’t compare a guest house in a war zone to this.” Zolf’s shoulders slumped, his own temper dissipating as Hamid’s arose.  
  
“Yeah, I know.” He turned around and passed a cup of tea to Hamid. “I don’t know what it is. I really don’t. I am happy. Really happy. Happier than I probably deserve to be. It’s just…” Zolf paused, waving his hand in the air as he struggled for words. “The house creaks.” He finished, somewhat lamely.  
  
“What?” Hamid said, confused.  
  
“Yeah I know, big deal. The house creaks, that’s what houses do. And hell, a few creaks are nothing on the things we’ve slept through.” He gave Hamid a lopsided grin. “Back in the early days, with Bertie rattling around like a lost tin can at all hours and Sasha going in and out of windows.” He smiled at the memory. “At least she got better at it. Bertie never did get the hang of taking plate off quietly.”  
  
“Bertie never saw the point of doing anything quietly.” Hamid’s smile was sadder than Zolf’s. He remembered for the thousandth time that for all the experience that united them there was a void of unshared memories, that he’d left them but Hamid had stayed, and that his reward for that loyalty was to be there to lose them both. Hamid visibly pulled himself out of the memories, just as Zolf was opening his mouth to apologise for invoking them. “Does the house creak a lot?” He asked, and it was such a banal question after everything that had just gone unsaid that Zolf almost laughed. He restrained himself, but they both felt the tension break.  
  
“No more than any other house. As far as I know.” Zolf sighed, knowing he was going to have to explain this further and wishing he had any idea how to. “I don’t think it’s keeping me awake. It’s just, it’s there. It’s what’s happening when I’m awake so I think about it. Unless Oscar’s snoring of course.” Hamid, who was mid swallow, almost spat out his tea.  
  
“Oscar snores?” Zolf was startled, realising what he had just said. Then he grinned.  
  
“Yeah, but don’t you dare tell him you know or we’ll both be wandering around thinking we’re frogs.” Hamid examined his hand as if it were a weapon. Sparks danced from finger to finger.  
  
“I reckon I could take him.”  
  
“Don’t.” Zolf said firmly. Hamid sighed and dropped his hand back to the table with an unnecessary flourish.  
  
“Have you spoken to Oscar about it?”  
  
“The snoring?”  
  
“No, the not sleeping.” Zolf sighed.  
  
“Not properly. But he knows about it. He’s not an idiot.”  
  
“Maybe you should.” Zolf shook his head firmly.  
  
“No. If I do that he’ll want to leave. And he’s home. He’s peaceful. He’s more peaceful than I’ve ever seen him.”  
  
“And are you home?” Hamid asked, with a glint of perception Zolf didn’t like at all.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I suppose this is the first time you’ve settled for a while.”  
  
“Depends what you mean by settled.” The look Hamid gave him told Zolf firmly that if he was going to be deliberately obtuse, he ought to make a better job of it.  
  
“What was the last place you called home?” He asked plainly. Zolf shifted his weight, uneasy.  
  
“The inn I suppose. Or the temple.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“As good as.” Hamid made a dissastisfied noise, but did not press him further. Instead he stood up from the table and picked up another of the mugs, leaving Zolf the other two to carry.  
  
“I’ve always thought.” He said as they left the kitchen and began the walk back up the tiled hall towards the front of the house. “That home wasn’t so much about a place as it was about people.” Zolf grunted, concentrating with more effort than was necessary on not spilling tea.  
  
“Well, you’re a people person.” He agreed shortly.  
  
“I suppose I always hoped that we were a home of sorts, y’know, the group. Before everything.” Zolf stopped and looked at him.  
  
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” He lied. Hamid looked sad, and he regretted it immediately. “That’s not what I meant.” He said quickly, before his face could fall any further. “I just mean I don’t think I was in the right state of mind back then to appreciate it.”  
  
“No, I don’t think you were.” Hamid agreed. He sounded more thoughtful than hurt, but that didn’t stop the guilt that had already settled in Zolf’s stomach. An old wound, knotted with scar tissue, stretched and pulled.  
  
“I wasn’t.” He said sincerely. “I wouldn’t have done what I did if I had been. Not that I regret it mind.” He added quickly. “I thought it was the best thing then, and I don’t disagree now.”  
  
“I suppose you wouldn’t have ended up here if you hadn’t gone then.”  
  
“There’s a lot of things that might not have happened.” Zolf agreed. “And a lot of things that might have.”  
  
“The great mysteries of life.” Hamid mused, leaning against a wall.  
  
“The tea’s getting cold.” Zolf replied, and set off back down the corridor. Hamid followed, but caught his arm just before he opened the door. The tea sloshed, but did not spill.  
  
“I always thought of you as part of us.” Hamid said, lowering his voice so he was not heard through the wooden door. Zolf ducked his head away from Hamid’s gaze for a moment, then nodded.


	6. Dusk

It hadn’t been long into knowing her that Zolf had decided Azu was a creature of motion. She was, like most of the paladins he had ever known, beholden to a desire to do something, change something for the better wherever she could. Even in the temple, when he had been filled with the fervour of the newly converted, he had been aware that such compulsions could be dangerous. Particularly when wielded by drowning obsessed maniacs with more trident than sense.

Aphrodite, as far as he could tell, was a more moderate influence on her paladins. But still, when Oscar had suggested a walk to town for dinner Azu had fairly leapt off the sofa. Hamid had been less keen, a combination of the usual opinion of the shortest legs in any party, and his stated preference of not wanting to allow exercise to get in the way of a good meal. Azu had made vague and suspiciously non-commital noises about summoning her camel to help him back again and that had seemed to be enough to smooth him over. For his part, Zolf hoped she did exactly that, he would pay good gold to see the looks on the faces of the gentry of the town when Topaz dropped sandy and braying into their midst. He had caught Oscar’s eye and seen exactly the same thought occur to him, the slight wicked twist to the corner of his mouth that Zolf was still drawn towards, the magnetism of shared thoughts in a beloved mind.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon as they left, the quality of an early winter sunset settling about them as they walked across the fields, following the track that would turn into a road that would turn eventually into shops and houses. He and Azu strode ahead while Oscar and Hamid lingered behind, deep in some conversation that Zolf assumed he should be glad he was not partaking in.

He smiled a little to himself, for all Hamid had tried to keep a cool distance from Oscar when they had been reunited in Japan, they were too basically similar to remain aloof from each other for any significant length of time. For all they complained about each other in private, and sometimes in public, five minutes in each others company would produce a conversation that wavered between the frivolous and esoteric, a settled comfortable rhythm they would both furiously deny the existence of if it was pointed to them.  
  
“What do you think they are talking about?” Azu was exhibiting her talent of breaking in uncomfortably on his thoughts when he least expected it. He wondered how many hours of people watching were included in the Aphrodite paladin syllabus. Zolf looked back and narrowed his eyes.  
  
“Some obscure point of high arcane magic.” He said. “Or shirtsleeve length. I honestly cannot tell.”  
  
“Both of equal importance to them, I think.” Azu replied. She smiled down on him and Zolf had an unpleasant thought.  
  
“What did Hamid tell you?” He asked sharply.  
  
“Some things you would probably rather he hadn’t.” She replied calmly. “But I doubt it was everything he could.”  
  
“I suppose that’s some comfort.”  
  
“I assume you would rather I didn’t know?” She didn’t sound hurt, but Zolf felt the slight for her even if she didn’t. He rubbed a tired hand through his hair. Every part of him seemed tired at the moment.  
  
“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind you knowing.” He thought for a moment. “For Gods’ sakes don’t tell Cel though, or I’ll be drugged in my bed.”  
  
“They would mean well.”  
  
“Yes. That’s what terrifies me the most.” Zolf agreed. “Look, it’s nice of you to be concerned, but it’s just something I have to get over on my own. If I can sleep on a ship with a hundred other souls and storm outside, I’m sure I can sleep in my own bed.”  
  
“What do you have to get over?” Azu asked, appearing genuinely baffled.  
  
“The not sleeping thing. That is what Hamid told you?”  
  
“He said you didn’t know why you couldn’t sleep.”  
  
“No. But I’m sure I’ll get over it eventually, whatever it is.”  
  
“I’m not quite sure how you intend to conquer something when you don’t even know what it is.”  
  
“Well, if you’re going to be sensible about it.” Zolf muttered.  
  
“How else should I be?” She phrased it as a genuine question, with the intonation to match. It was only some experience and the look in her eyes that told him she knew exactly what she was doing.  
  
“I don’t have much choice but to get over it do I? It’s that or submit to one of Cel’s experimental cures.” Azu made a face.  
  
“Let’s not go through that again.”  
  
“Exactly. So I’ll just have to find a way.”  
  
“Or you could examine the problem.”  
  
“What do you think I’ve been doing? There’s not much else to do in the middle of the night.”  
  
“That might not be the best time to examine it. Do you like the house?”  
  
“What sort of a question is that? Of course I do. It’s my house.” Zolf felt like he was snapping at her despite his best efforts, but Azu seemed unperturbed.  
  
“It’s very isolated. It must be quiet at night.”  
  
“No more isolated than the middle of the ocean.”  
  
“More still, perhaps.”  
  
“You’d be amazed.” Azu shrugged.  
  
“Quieter.”  
  
“Yes, that I suppose.” Zolf narrowed his eyes at her. “I know what you’re doing. And I’ve not been at sea for a long time.”  
  
“You brought up the ocean.” She replied. This, Zolf remembered, was one of the more infuriating traits of paladins. He knew Azu could be angry, had seen her burn with incandescent rage and holy fire, but she could also turn on the obstinate calm of the truly enlightened when she chose to.  
  
“It was just an example.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Yes, ‘of course’.” Zolf paused to gather his thoughts. “Look, I can sleep most anywhere, cities, towns, inns where half the population are trying to kill the other half.” He grimaced at that particular and very specific memory. “I can sleep on boats. I can sleep in the middle of a forest. I can sleep with the ground beneath me being stripped of its riches. This is not a problem I have.”  
  
“Except you do have it.”  
  
“Except I do have it. Yes. Well spotted.”  
  
“Well then, maybe you need to stop thinking about all the places you can sleep, and start thinking about the place where you can’t.”  
  
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Zolf’s voice rose in frustration and he turned quickly to see if Hamid and Oscar had noticed. Their conversation seemed undisturbed but it could have been studied ignorance, at this distance Zolf couldn’t tell. He moderated his tone. “This house is all I’ve been thinking about for months. Before we moved here, while we were moving here, now we’re here. I haven’t thought about anything else.”  
  
“Maybe you’ve thought too much about it then.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Only that whatever you’ve been thinking about sounds like a lot for one building to contain.” Zolf shook his head, growing irritated.  
  
“It’s not just a building though, is it.”.  
  
“Then what is it?” Endless, obstinate patience.  
  
“It’s…” He stopped, drew in a breath and let it out again before continuing, concentrating for a moment on the motion of walking. “Hamid asked me if I was home.” He said finally.  
  
“And are you?” Azu was too good at this to have a glint of triumph in her eye, but Zolf could imagine it there anyway.  
  
“Yes.” He said firmly, then conceded. “Whatever that means.”  
  
“My home is with my family.”   
  
“Well, I’ve been a bit short on family for a while now.” Zolf could see the next question forming on her lips and rushed to intercept it. “I’ve been that way for a long time, and it’s fine. But I suppose home has been a bit of a movable feast for me. There was the sea, and then Poseidon, and then the rangers.” He used the old name unconsciously. “And then there was the inn and Oscar, and travelling with Oscar, and now this house.”  
  
“And Oscar?” A slight smile touched Zolf’s lips.  
  
“And somehow still, inevitably, Oscar.” He agreed.  
  
“It sounds as if you know where your home is.” Zolf made a face.  
  
“What a thought.” He said with mock horror.  
  
“Well, I would never comment on your judgement.” Azu replied with great seriousness, startling a laugh out of Zolf.  
  
“I should think not. Hamid said you fancied Ed at one point.”  
  
“It was a very brief infatuation.” Azu said with great dignity. “It lasted almost until he had finished a sentence.”  
  
“That long?”  
  
“He is a paladin, I felt I should give him a chance.”  
  
“You’re a better person than most.”   
  
“I would like to think that isn’t true.”  
  
“And that’s why you’re a better person than most.” Zolf finished with weary triumph. “I know what you mean. I do know, I’m not totally without self-awareness.”  
  
“But?”  
  
“But maybe there’s something missing. Or maybe I’m missing something, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not capable of having a home anymore.”  
  
“I don’t think that can be true.”  
  
“I hope you’re right.”  
  
“I’m sure I am.” Azu said it in the same sincere tone, but Zolf caught the twinkle in her eye.  
  
“Paladins.” He muttered, shaking his head. The town was coming into view in the distance, and Zolf slowed his pace to allow the other two to catch up. Azu followed suit, glancing behind them to see how much ground they had to cover. Neither Oscar nor Hamid noticed, still engaged in some sort of argument that involved a lot of expansive gestures and crackling air.  
  
“Do you think we should stop them?” Azu asked, pausing to watch.  
  
“No, they’re having fun.” Zolf tried to sound disparaging, but found to his dismay he sounded simply indulgent. Azu, he realised, also had an indulgent expression, but was aiming it directly at him.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Oh nothing.” Azu said, smiling that insufferable know-it-all-paladin smile that they must teach at the temples. Zolf had found himself growing fond of the expression in the months they had spent in Japan. He was horrified to discover the feeling hadn’t dissipated since.  
  
“It’s never nothing.” Zolf grumbled.  
  
“No.” Azu smiled, watching Zolf watching Hamid and Oscar catching up on them. “It never is.”


	7. Evening

Oscar, he knew, was not completely happy with their choice of restaurant. Not that there was much of a choice, the town was not large enough to sustain more than two restaurants that would fit Hamid and Oscar’s exacting standards. Of these, he knew Oscar preferred the other, although the difference between the two was not something Zolf could clearly discern. He had also known that they would be going to this one from the moment Hamid caught sight of the name.  
  
“The soaking minstrel? Oh we must.”  
  
“For old times’ sake.” Zolf agreed, mostly keeping the smile from his lips. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Oscar and Azu exchange glances.  
  
“Have I ever told you about our time in Dover?” Hamid asked Azu with honest curiosity. He seemed to assume Oscar already knew. Zolf supposed that for Hamid, it would be a gross omission to tell a tale without mentioning the name of the restaurant. Hamid began the story with great animation, and Oscar leaned over to mutter in Zolf's ear as they passed through the restaurant door.  
  
"Do I really want to know?" He asked.  
  
"Almost certainly not." Zolf replied, stroking a soothing hand down his back that also served to gently propel him into the restaurant.  
  
"This place is an affront to my dignity." He heard Oscar mutter. A little further ahead Hamid was effortlessly charming the maître d’ into finding them a last minute table, while simultaneously explaining the hierarchy of Dover restaurants to Azu. Oscar was looking more pained by the second and Zolf, who may have loved the man beyond the telling of it but also felt a little discomfort did him good sometimes, smiled beatifically as they reached the table and an explanation of the soggy cabin boy at the same moment.  
  
"I think it sounds charming." Azu was saying diplomatically as they were seated.  
  
"I think it sounds awful." Oscar muttered, and Zolf squeezed his thigh under the table, a gesture that could be interpreted as both support and a warning.  
  
"It was lovely really. A little rustic maybe…" Hamid paused and took in his immediate surroundings, which were distinctly more rustic than any Dover restaurant they had visited. "But that's charming in its own way." Unconsciously, he was rearranging the silverware at his place setting into the proper order.  
  
“The entire visit was worth the trouble just to see Sasha discover sea food.” Zolf remarked as the waiter took their wine order. Hamid had as usual appointed himself in charge of ordering and none of the rest of them had even thought to argue with him. Zolf remembered Oscar muttering ‘why interrupt a master at work’ to him on one of their previous meals together. Azu raised her eyebrows.  
  
“She must have enjoyed that.”  
  
“I’ve never seen an oyster eaten so well.” Zolf agreed, grinning. Hamid caught the end of the comment as he turned back from ordering.  
  
“Oh God, the oysters.” He said, laughing.  
  
“What did she do to the oysters?” Oscar was as confident as ever, but Zolf noticed the tiny side glance he gave him before speaking. They had got better at talking about the past in the last year, but there was a residual nervousness on Oscar’s part whenever it came up, as if he still felt it wasn’t his place to ask Zolf these things.   
  
“Inhaled them.” Zolf replied.  
  
“With hot sauce. A lot of hot sauce.” Hamid was still chuckling.  
  
“It was a learning experience for her.” Zolf confirmed with mock seriousness. Azu was laughing at the image, and even Oscar had begun to smile, the soft smile that Zolf loved, the one that appeared only when he forgot to worry about the twist of the scar.  
  
“I mean, it wasn’t quite as bad as the dire lobster.”  
  
“What dire lobster?” Azu asked. While they were talking the wine had arrived. Hamid tasted it absently, and then waved his hand to the rest of the table.  
  
“Ah, see that was in Paris.” Zolf answered while Hamid conferred with the waiter over starters. The rest of them had managed to order simply enough, but Hamid was engaged in some sort of complex negotiation. “We had this hotel suite you see. All paid for by this giant computer that was running on brains.”  
  
“Of course you did.” Oscar murmured fondly. Zolf gave him a look, but continued. “And Hamid managed to order us a dire lobster each.”   
  
“That seems excessive.” Azu looked concerned.  
  
“It was. For almost every meal. Until we destroyed the giant computer.”  
  
“Did you destroy the computer just to stop the lobsters?” She asked.  
  
“No, but now you mention it that was the one good thing that came out of it.”  
  
“To be fair, the dog ate quite a lot of the lobster.” Hamid said, returning to the conversation from his conference with the waiter.  
  
“Not as much as you two.”  
  
“There was a dog?” Azu asked.  
  
“Bertie had a dog. He manipulated it into loving him.” Zolf replied.  
  
“That’s not something you usually have to do with a dog.”  
  
“No.” Hamid said, he smiled a little sadly. “But that was Bertie for you.”  
  
“The dog got the last laugh.” Oscar said, breaking into the conversation.  
  
“What do you mean?” Hamid asked.  
  
“You know he left the legacy of Hannibal to the dog?”   
  
“I know he left his estate to the dog.” Azu looked conflicted, as if she couldn’t decide whether these revelations made Bertie a better or worse person.  
  
“He only did that because it was as close as he could come to leaving it to himself.” Zolf said a little more heatedly than was probably necessary. “He tried to turn that dog into a canine version of him.” He felt Oscar’s hand grip his under the table. His anger was mostly muted these days, but it was funny where the undrained pools of irritation that littered his psyche were left. Oscar’s thumb was stroking the back of his hand, firm and grounding. Zolf wondered when it was that gestures like that had ceased to irritate him more than they soothed him.   
  
“Well it didn’t work.” Oscar smiled at them. Even now he enjoyed anything he knew and they didn’t. Zolf squeezed the hand holding his, because he wasn’t above sending warnings of his own. Oscar looked at him and his smile got wider. “Turns out if you leave your dog the circlet of command it’s pretty much an invitation for him to make his own destiny.” Azu, to their surprise, laughed.  
  
“I do hope you’ve told Tjelvar that is where it went.” She said. “He still asks after it at Cambridge.”  
  
“Feel free to let him know.” Oscar said generously. “Anyway, Sir Brutor MacGuffingham was making good use of his new powers by all accounts. Quite the noble defender of all animals, generous in spirit and brave of heart.”  
  
“Are you quoting something?” Hamid asked.  
  
“I wasn’t the only meritocratic operative with poetic flair.”  
  
“Sometimes I wonder about the meritocrats hiring policy.” Zolf muttered. “If you’re anything to go by.”  
  
“And yet you love me for it.” Oscar turned an exaggerated fluttering of his eyelashes on him.  
  
“I’ve told you before, don’t go on about it.” Zolf grumbled.  
  
“Anyway, the last I heard, before I had to go underground, he was wandering Europe awakening any animal that needed rescuing. Which by then was a fair few.”  
  
“That’s lovely.” Hamid said, sounding sad.  
  
“It’s fucking delightful.” Zolf chuckled.  
  
“I suppose Tjelvar will be glad to know it is doing good work.” Said Azu, sounding somewhat doubtful. “I will tell Ed to tell him.”  
  
“You could just tell him yourself.” Hamid said, eyebrows raised.  
  
“I think he will take it better from Ed.”   
  
“Coward.” Zolf grinned. Azu reached out and lightly cuffed him on the shoulder.  
  
“If I had bad news for you, wouldn’t you rather I got Oscar to tell you?”  
  
“I would rather you didn’t.” Oscar said.  
  
“You don’t get a say.” Zolf smiled at him. He looked at his wine glass and realised it was fuller than he had expected for the light feeling in his head. By the time starters had arrived and been finished he had drained the glass, but couldn't shake the feeling he was trying to catch himself up to his state of mind.  
  
"But do you think there's really a chance?" Hamid was asking, and Zolf dropped out of his reverie, realising the conversation had moved on.  
  
"No. But then I wouldn't bet against them." Oscar replied, spinning the stem of his wineglass I'm his fingers. Hamid, ever the host, took the hint and refilled both their glasses.  
  
"And Azu, of course." Hamid said.  
  
"And Azu." Oscar agreed, tilting his head in her direction in an affectionate parody of a bow.  
  
"It will be an experience." Azu said diplomatically.  
  
"Well, if he could find Hannibal's tomb with Bertie and Ed helping him…" Oscar began.  
  
"Azu should come as a blessed relief?" Zolf chipped in, finally caught up.  
  
"Well clearly, he has no problem with Ed." Hamid grinned.  
  
"You'd be amazed what you can get used to." Oscar tried to pull his hand out of Zolf's at this in mock offence, but Zolf smiled to himself and held on.  
  
"Still, all those traps and secret passages, you should take Carter with you." Oscar said. Azu visibly shuddered.  
  
"I think we will manage." She said stiffly.  
  
"Sasha would have loved it." Hamid said wistfully. "I always thought that one day, we might go back to investigate that tomb under the bank. Y'know, when it was all over."  
  
"Wherever she is, I'm sure she's lock-picking. There must be a celestial plane for that.” Zolf looked hopefully at Azu.  
  
“If there isn’t, she will have created one.”   
  
“An eternal land of locked doors and tall buildings.” Hamid smiled. “And seafood, endless seafood.”  
  
“To Sasha.” Oscar raised his glass and tipped it in a toast. They all followed. “And to your goblin friend, wherever he may be.” Zolf added.  
  
“Hunting.” The other three replied almost in unison. 

More food arrived, and for a while they were distracted by dividing dishes between them. Zolf had forgotten what an experience it could be dining with Hamid. He wanted to try everything, but he wanted you to try everything too. No matter what sort of service a restaurant thought they were giving, everything turned into a buffet with Hamid at the table. It was relaxed, and the wine kept flowing, and Zolf found his guard slipping more than usual.  
  
“I’m glad you found them.” He said to Hamid, swallowing the last of a steak he was fairly certain he hadn’t ordered. Hamid and Azu looked at him in confusion but Oscar, more attuned by now to Zolf’s wandering trains of thought, did his best to hide his surprise.   
  
“Who?” Hamid asked. Zolf felt the tendrils of embarrassment crawling up from the pit of his stomach, but continued anyway. If there was one thing he had learnt in all this time, it was that it was better to be clear and uncomfortable, rather than leaving things uncertain.  
  
“Grizzop, and Azu. I’m glad you found people to replace me. I mean…” He said quickly when he saw Hamid about to open his mouth, certain he was about to deny that Zolf could ever be replaced. “People who could do the things that I can do. I’m glad I didn’t ruin everything when I went off.”  
  
“Of course you didn’t.” Hamid was speaking gently, the slightly over-exaggerated emotion that came with good food and fine, plentiful wine.  
  
“Well, that’s good then.” The awkwardness was becoming more distinct by the second. Zolf shifted in his chair.  
  
“Just imagine where we might have ended up if you hadn’t left.” Oscar said, cheerfully cutting through the tension. “You might never have seen my finer qualities.”  
  
“That’s true.” Zolf replied, patting him on the knee. “But we all have some regrets.” Oscar’s retaliation was to slide an arm around him and pull him towards him, planting an exaggerated kiss on the side of his head. Zolf fought him off half-heartedly. “I apologise.” He said to Azu and Hamid. “He has no idea how to behave in company.”  
  
“I’ll have you know I have been in some of the finest company the world has to offer.” Oscar said haughtily, pulling himself up straight in his chair.  
  
“I remember the papers Oscar.” Hamid said. “You had no idea how to behave then either.”  
  
“I think you are confusing ignorance with the tactics of a provocateur.”  
  
“Yes, but what reason did you have to provoke us?” This came from Azu, and Oscar blinked at her in surprise.  
  
“I thought I was always gracious with you, Azu.” She shook her head, laughing.  
  
“Grizzop punched you in the groin. With good reason.” Oscar winced at the memory and Zolf choked on his drink.  
  
“You never told me that!” He said. “You told me about him stripping you naked.”  
  
“What?” Hamid was shocked enough to almost drop the last forkful of stew on his otherwise empty plate. He looked down and quickly rescued it.  
  
“He was looking for signs of a magical infection.” Wilde said quickly. “They shaved my head too. It was probably all very awkward, but I think I was too tired to notice.”  
  
“Ah.” Said Azu in understanding. “He had your best interests at heart then.”  
  
“I don’t think that meant he didn’t enjoy it.” Oscar grumbled.  
  
“I’m certain it didn’t.” Azu replied serenely. “Grizzop always did enjoy his calling.”  
  
“I should thank you too.” Oscar said, turning serious for a moment. “I don’t think I ever did. But you were very kind to me then, when you didn’t have to be.”  
  
“I’m a paladin of Aphrodite Oscar, I should always be kind.” Azu’s expression softened. “But you are welcome. And I am glad you recovered.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“Dessert?” Hamid asked. Whether to avoid the awkward turn of the conversation or just due to his basic nature, he was flicking through the dessert menu. The waiter, having obviously got to grips with the mechanics of the situation, had bypassed the rest of them and handed the menu straight to him.  
  
“Why not?” Zolf replied more cheerfully than he was expecting. He decided to wait until later to get the full details of the punch in the groin story. Hamid beckoned the waiter and ordered what Zolf guessed, conservatively, was the complete dessert list. Oscar cleared his throat.   
  
“Anyway, I hope wherever he is he’s happy.”  
  
“You should hope that.” Hamid grinned and poured them all more wine. “If he was going to come back and haunt someone, it would almost certainly be you.”  
  
“An eternity of having my faults merticulously listed by a tiny ball of moral superiority.” Oscar shuddered, “what a thought.”  
  
“Hey!” Zolf poked him in the side, provoking a satisfying jump. “What am I, chopped liver? I can list your faults as well as anyone.” Oscar looked him up and down.  
  
“You’re not that tiny.”  
  
“And it’s been a while since you could be morally superior.” Hamid pointed out. “Was I ever?” Zolf watched as creations of whipped cream and meringue were piled on the table by the waiter. “I reserve the right to point out your faults for eternity though.”  
  
“That may be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.” Oscar replied. Hamid chuckled.  
  
“It isn’t.” He said confidently.  
  
“And how would you know?” Oscar asked, eyebrows raised.  
  
“The inn walls weren’t that thick Oscar.” Hamid replied archly. “You should probably think about that if you ever find yourself in that situation again.”  
  
“Gods forbid.” Oscar said fervently. Zolf shot him a look. “You were the only good part of it.” Oscar said quickly. He turned back to the table only to find himself facing equally chilly looks from Hamid and Azu. “And your delightful friends, of course.”  
  
“Of course.” Azu nodded.   
  
“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you.” Zolf feigned casualness. “Turns out they all knew about us, all the time. They just never told us.” Oscar sighed deeply.  
  
“Of course they did.”   
  
“Well, as I said, you were hardly subtle.” Hamid replied as soon as he had delicately swallowed an enormous mouthful of trifle.  
  
“You could hardly expect us not to notice.” Azu was gently reaching over the table to remove at least one of the dessert dishes out of Hamid’s reach. “You both glow with it.”  
  
“Coming from you, that takes on a whole new meaning.” Zolf said. “I don’t remember doing much glowing, do you?” He asked Oscar.  
  
“I mostly remember stifling boredom and heart-stopping terror. I don’t think I had much time for glowing.”  
  
“Trust me, I’m a paladin.” Azu replied serenely.  
  
“Do they give you that on business cards?” Zolf asked. “Because they should.”  
  
“Glowing or not, it was completely obvious.” The trifle had been replaced and Hamid was now sampling some sort of cheesecake, making animated motions in the air with his dessert fork as he spoke. “I could see it, and it was the last thing I was expecting.”  
  
“He has a point.” Oscar said. He slung an arm around Zolf’s shoulders and leaned closer to him. “If we convinced Hamid it was true, it must have been very obvious indeed.”  
  
“Then why didn’t you rescue me?” Zolf asked Hamid mock seriously. “I’m stuck with him now.”  
  
“It was too late.” Oscar said smugly. “You already loved me by then. I’d already won you over.”  
  
“That is not exactly what I remember happening.” Zolf grumbled. “I don’t recall any winning.”  
  
“I gave you whiskey. Good whiskey. My whiskey.”  
  
“I’m not a ‘one drink and I’m yours’ kind of dwarf.”  
  
“There was definitely more than one drink.”  
  
“I suppose that’s true.” Zolf couldn’t help grinning at him, the part of him that would usually be saying his expression was too stupid for company silenced by wine and warmth. Oscar was smiling back, eyes shining. He leant over and kissed him briefly, laughing against his mouth even as he did it. As he sat back in his chair he noticed Hamid and Azu exchanging fond, exasperated, glances.   
  
“What?”  
  
“So, when is the wedding?” Hamid asked, winking at them.  
  
“I can perform the ceremony.” Azu said perfectly seriously. “As a paladin of Aphrodite.”  
  
“No weddings just yet.” Zolf said firmly. “At least let me get used to the house before you start trying to get me carried over the threshold.”  
  
“I thought you’d ruled that out.” Hamid twinkled at him.  
  
“I certainly had.” Oscar said. He looked faintly stunned, but was hiding it well. “I’m not sure I could carry you over the threshold if I tried.”  
  
“Good thing you’re not going to try then.” Zolf replied with just a touch of threat to his voice.  
  
“Yes dear.”  
  
“It will be a very modern marriage.” Zolf continued. “No one is carrying anyone over any thresholds.”  
  
“Is this decided then?” Oscar asked. His tone was arch, but Zolf knew him well enough to catch the second genuine question underneath it. If he had planned on asking him such a thing, this was the last way he would ever have done it. But now here he was, proving once again that planning was not his forte.  
  
“I think so. Azu, Hamid, do you have any objection to this union?”  
  
“No.” They both replied, with all the mock sincerity the occasion warranted.  
  
“Well then, that’s the family happy.” Zolf grinned, and although some part of him was wondering where all this was coming from, and if perhaps he had drunk more wine than he had realised, a larger part of him was enjoying itself far too much to stop. “That’s all settled then.” Under the table Zolf’s hand found Oscar’s again and he entwined their fingers. “In the spring I think Azu, if that’s quite alright with you.”  
  
“A very traditional time for a wedding.”  
  
“I thought so.”   
  
“Are you serious?” Oscar suddenly blurted out, his hand twitching in Zolf’s. The look in his eyes when Zolf turned to face him was almost pleading.  
  
“Yes.” Zolf said, sincere. The world seemed to drop away to just the two of them for a moment.  
  
“Oh Thank the Gods.” Oscar murmured and Zolf leaned closer.   
  
“In a heartbeat.” He said quietly. Then louder. “But let’s wait until the weather warms up.”  
  
“Oh of course.” Oscar was smiling his unselfconscious smile, brighter and wider than Zolf had seen it for some time. “Nothing as gauche as a winter wedding.”  
  
“Well I’d hate for us to offend your sense of fashion.” Zolf sat up straight. It was Hamid and Azu’s turn to look slightly stunned, as if they could not quite believe what they had just witnessed. Hamid recovered quickest.  
  
“Well, this calls for a celebration.” He said a little shakily. He motioned for the waiter. “Your finest whiskey please.”  
  
The waiter nodded and began to retreat, but Oscar beckoned him back. He leant close to the waiter and muttered a few words to him. Zolf, who was not used to hearing him speak and not sing in that language, looked up in surprise. The waiter too seemed momentarily nonplussed, but recovered himself and replied to Oscar in the same tongue, smiling.  
  
“Now it will be the _finest_ whiskey.” Oscar said, sounding self-satisfied.  
  
“Using your powers for evil.” Zolf muttered to him, but Oscar shook his head.  
  
“Using my upbringing for good.” He corrected.   
  
“The good of fine whiskey?”  
  
“The good of fine whiskey for my friends.”   
  
“No nobler cause.” Zolf grinned at him as the waiter returned and glasses were poured. Zolf, Hamid and Oscar sipped theirs delicately but Azu drank it straight down and sat back with a satisfied sigh.  
  
“Very nice.” She said. “It’s no moonshine, but you can’t have everything.” The other three stared at her.  
  
“You… enjoyed it then.” Hamid said tentatively.   
  
“Of course. But I will bring a barrel of moonshine to wedding, for a proper celebration.” Zolf caught Hamid’s delicate shudder and Azu’s half concealed smile. She clearly knew exactly what she was doing.  
  
“As long as you promise to keep it away from the guests until after the vows.” Zolf said gruffly. “The last thing we needed is being married by a drunken paladin in front of a passed out congregation.”  
  
“Actually, that would be entirely in keeping with us.” Oscar pointed out.  
  
“No moonshine before the reception."  
  
"No moonshine before the reception." Azu promised.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Sometimes I think you lack a sense of adventure." Oscar mused.  
  
"I've had enough adventure for a lifetime. For several lifetimes, and change." Zolf said grumpily. "I don't need a sense of adventure, adventure finds me whether I want it to or not."  
  
"And now you're embarking on the greatest adventure, with me." Zolf groaned.  
  
"There are times when I think we all need to remember that this man is a published author." He said to Hamid and Azu.  
  
"Well, I'm no Harrison Campbell." Oscar said modestly. Azu looked pleased and Hamid appalled, but Zolf cuffed him affectionately on the shoulder.  
  
"Enough of your cheek."  
  
"Never."

Around them the restaurant was surreptitiously closing. The staff were clearly too polite and well trained to tell them to leave, but at some point when Zolf's mind had been on other things the majority of other patrons had left, and the staff had begun to snuff out candles and remove cutlery from the tables.  
  
"We should go back to the house." Hamid said, ever alert to social cues in a way neither Zolf had never mastered. Oscar was perfectly well aware, he knew, but unlike Hamid he never felt any need to obey social cues unless it suited his purposes. There was a brief wrangle over how the bill was to be divided, the hosts wishing to treat their guests and the guests to thank their hosts, but eventually Zolf found himself out in the cold night air following the path back home, the distance lengthened by the weight of food and drink. This time it was Azu and Hamid who were ahead, Azu's stride almost comically shortened to keep pace with a slightly meandering halfling. He and Oscar followed on behind like a pair of absent minded sheepdogs. Zolf wrapped an arm around Oscar's waist. It wasn't a usual thing for them, it tended to grow uncomfortable quickly, but Zolf gave himself the excuse of the cold, and Oscar's slightly stumbling gait. If he was also stumbling himself he chose to ignore it. Oscar looked down at him in mild surprise.  
  
"Alright there?"  
  
"Never better." He tucked himself in closer, revelling in human warmth.  
  
"The thing in the restaurant." Oscar started, sounding so uncharacteristically unsure of himself that Zolf leant away so he could look up into his face.  
  
"Which thing?" Oscar’s face went from the unfamiliar lack of assurance to a much more familiar faint irritation.  
  
“You know exactly which thing.”   
  
“Yeah.” Zolf conceded. “So what is it, then? Do you want to back out? Because you’re telling Azu if so, I’m not putting myself in the way of that.”  
  
“No, of course I don’t want to back out.” Oscar said hastily. “I just wanted to be sure you didn’t feel like you were being pressured. Social expectations of the evening and everything. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel I’d taken advantage of the situation.” Zolf’s disbelief must have shown in face because Oscar added. “This is me being considerate. And yes I know, before you say anything, funny time to start and all that. But I do try believe it or not. This is me trying to be considerate.”  
  
“Of course you can be considerate.” It would have been easy, far too easy, for Zolf to be flippant, to guide this conversation down their usual tracks of teasing. Not tonight though, he wouldn’t do that tonight. “You’re bad at the little things, I’ll tell you that every day for the rest of our lives. But you’re not inconsiderate when it matters.” Oscar was clearly about to speak but Zolf held up a hand to stop him. “No, my turn now. I don’t know what makes you think I have suddenly started caring about social expectations, maybe you just haven’t been paying attention but I’m not very good at playing nice with people.” Oscar nodded, watching him with wide eyes. “And I know that’s not always been the best for me in the past. But do you know what that does make me good at?” A tiny shake of the head, and Zolf couldn’t tell if Oscar was genuinely confused or just playing along. It didn’t seem to matter at the moment either way. “It makes me really good at not doing what other people want me to do. Makes me really good at doing what I want to do instead. Now I don’t quite know how much wine you’ve had to make you think tonight went the way you seem to think it did.”  
  
“I’m blaming the whiskey.” Oscar breathed, still watching Zolf with wide searching eyes.  
  
“Well whatever, we both know you can’t hold your drink.” This time Oscar was about to speak up with indignation, but Zolf held his hand up again. “Still talking.” He said sharply. “Like I was saying, we seem to have very different memories of what just happened. ‘Cause the way I remember it, it was me that laid down the terms for this marriage, and it was you who agreed to it. So I don’t think there’s any question of _you_ pressuring _me_.”  
  
“To be fair, I think Hamid and Azu brought it up.” Oscar murmured.  
  
“Yeah, but the day I let my love life be dictated by a playboy and a hopeless romantic…” Zolf trailed off and he and Oscar shared a look of perfect, horrified realisation.  
  
“You do know…” Oscar began.  
  
“Yes.” Zolf replied shortly.  
  
“I mean, it’s not a million miles…” Oscar tried again.  
  
“Yes I am aware.”   
  
“You could say that we were…”  
  
“Nope. No you couldn’t. Not if you didn’t want to be part of the shortest engagement in history.”  
  
“Sorry, I have no idea what I was thinking.” Oscar said with a parody of cheeriness. “I will stop talking about anything to do with anyone who could be considered a playboy, or a hopeless romantic.”  
  
“Good.” Said Zolf. He tucked himself into Oscar’s side again and noticed the others had increased their lead on them while they had been talking. “Is that settled then? Can I consider myself engaged?” Oscar stopped and turned to face him. He leant down and kissed him gently, smiling that cracked smile that Zolf had forgotten how not to be in love with.  
  
“Sealed with a kiss.” He said softly against Zolf’s lips.  
  
“Remind again which one of us is the hopeless romantic?” Zolf asked as they began to walk again.  
  
“I thought we had agreed on neither of us.”  
  
“I don’t know what you mean, I don’t remember any such conversation.”  
  
“You’re quite right, of course.” As they continued on Zolf complained about the darkness and Oscar produced some pretty lights to light their way with the easy free flowing magic that seemed to come so naturally to him here. Zolf wasn’t quite sure it was necessary for the lights to be so golden, or to flutter around their heads so, but then on the other hand they both knew he could see perfectly well in the dark and neither of them were mentioning that. He settled closer in to the warmth at his side, and let it go.


	8. Epilogue: After Midnight

"You were asleep." Zolf opened his eyes to find a face five inches from his. It was the face of the love of his life, the joy of his heart, the man he had agreed a scant few hours earlier to marry. He controlled himself, and did not punch it.  
  
"And you felt the need to wake me up and tell me?" He asked through a yawn. Oscar, to his credit, looked chagrined.  
  
"I was just checking that you really were." He said guiltily. "And you were, and then you weren't." He leaned down and kissed Zolf on the forehead, as if hoping he might make himself worthy of absolution by example. Zolf for his part took the opportunity to tip Oscar off him, causing him to land heavily in the sheets with a startled 'oof'. "No need for that." He grumbled.  
  
"Every need for that." Zolf replied, turning on his side to face him. There was very little light in the room, the nights here were truly dark and the waning moon did little to brighten the room through the thick curtains. Not that Zolf minded, he could see everything he wanted to. He traced a finger down Oscar's face, then leaned over to kiss the same crooked path. It was a gesture of affection as old as their time together. "You're lucky you have redeeming qualities." Oscar smiled at him.  
  
"Trust me, I feel fully redeemed."  
  
"I can't think of a religion that would have you."  
  
"Then we'll have to be a religion of two." Zolf made a face.  
  
"I've done my time as a zealot."  
  
"I'll settle for having you as an acolyte." Oscar moved closer, and tucked Zolf's head under his chin. Zolf's arms went around him automatically, familiar and secure.  
  
"We'll be Gods on equal footing" Zolf said firmly. "We will just have to worship each other." He felt the in-drawing of Oscar's breath under his fingers.  
  
"Whatever it is, don't even think of saying it."  
  
"It might have been poetry."  
  
"It wasn't." Zolf said with complete certainty. They were silent for a few moments. Around them were faint new sounds, the creaks and rustles of other living beings under their roof. Zolf could even hear muffled halfling snores, soft enough to be nostalgic of nights spent in much closer quarters. He drifted in Oscar’s warmth and the sea of familiarity.  
  
“I like to think it’s the promise of eternal happiness.” Oscar murmured in a tone Zolf recognised as the voiced end of a long train of thought. “Hmm?” He didn’t bother looking up, odds were even that Oscar would reply or go back to sleep.  
  
“You were sleeping.” Oscar said eventually.  
  
“I was sleeping because I was tired. Until you woke me up of course.”  
  
“We both know being tired hasn’t been the arbiter of whether you’ve been sleeping in the last few weeks.” Oscar said a little grumpily. This time Zolf did move, wiggling up the bed so they could be face to face.  
  
“I knew you knew.”  
  
“Of course I knew.”  
  
“When were you awake then?”  
  
“Probably most of the time you were.” Oscar said airily, as if it didn’t matter. Zolf frowned.  
  
“It didn’t show.”  
  
“My early experiences taught me how to feign sleep.” Oscar replied flippantly. Zolf, who knew exactly what he was referring to, kept his wince internal. “And more recent experiences have taught me how not to look like I’m going without it.”  
  
“You could have just said something.” Zolf grumbled.  
  
“And had you feeling guilty for disturbing my sleep on top of what was already keeping you awake?” Oscar shook his head. “How would that have helped precisely?”  
  
“I’d have liked to have known.”  
  
“Well, I promise to keep you informed on my every bout of insomnia from here on out.” Oscar said sincerely. He leaned forward and kissed Zolf’s nose. “If you also promise not to suffer in silence.” Zolf grunted.  
  
“We’ll see.” He conceded.  
  
“Good. Oscar lifted himself up slightly so he could tuck Zolf’s head back under his chin. Zolf went with the minimum of protest.  
  
“I don’t remember anything about promises of eternal happiness.” Zolf said a few minutes later.  
  
“I’m not walking into that one.” Oscar’s voice vibrated through his body and into Zolf’s. “We’re more happy than not. And I can’t think of a better basis for a marriage than that.”  
  
“You’re probably right.” Zolf felt Oscar’s small start of surprise.  
  
“I shall be reminding you of that statement in the morning.”  
  
“Of course you will.” Zolf said dryly. “Now, is there any chance I might be allowed to complete the rest of my night’s sleep unmolested?”  
  
“That depends.” Zolf could hear Oscar’s grin even though he couldn’t see it. “Shall we test if our walls are thicker than the inn’s?”  
  
“Go to sleep Oscar.” Zolf said firmly, tucking himself in around Oscar for good measure. “We will have three to entertain tomorrow.”  
  
“In general, Cel provides their own entertainment.” Oscar sounded sleepy.  
  
“Yes, and that’s just one of the things we will have to watch out for.” Oscar’s reply to that was barely a murmur, and he relaxed under Zolf’s arms. Zolf waited for a moment, habituated to the beginnings of anxiety that came with trying to fall asleep. Instead he felt only the same warm drifting he had experienced the first time he went to sleep that night. He knew that tomorrow, the rational watcher who lived in his head was going to be appalled at him for apparently being cured by something so cliche. But then, maybe it had nothing to do with it at all, maybe it was having the sounds of Azu and Hamid sleeping close by, his friends in the first true safe haven he had ever been able to offer them. Or maybe it was just the comfort of tradition, some deep rooted idea that had taken hold in his psyche before he was old enough to know better. Or maybe it was the shock to the system, or the whiskey, or the good food. His mind floated on a sea of ideas, drifting between a mine in the west country hills, an inn on a Japanese island, a house on the Irish coast. At some point his grip became slack, his thoughts became dreams, and he was asleep. The house creaked, but nobody noticed.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's that. Five nights was supposed to be a two thousand word distraction from the RQG/Country House murder mystery AU nonsense I'm intermittently working on. It got a little out of hand.


End file.
